The Evil Swan
by Melancholy Nights
Summary: I am a witch. Not good nor bad, but maybe slightly wicked, marginally nefarious and sort of evil. My name is Isabella Marie Swan. I have great days and rough days… and days when I literally feel off- those days are when I was painting something deathly fascinating. Death being a keyword. Yes, I paint death... and I have several masterpieces.


**Chapter 1. The Doll Collector**

I am a passionate person though outwardly you'd think I'm meek.

But I eat people for breakfast, figuratively speaking ofcourse.

And I am a witch. Not good nor bad, but maybe slightly wicked, marginally nefarious and sort of evil.

My name is Isabella Marie Swan.

I have great days and rough days…

and days when I literally feel off- those days are when I was painting something deathly fascinating.

Death being a keyword. Yes, I paint death... and I have several masterpieces.

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I used to be a happy child, innocent with no worries about the world, and even though I am a very peculiar child, I was okay, but that was a very very long time ago.

I was often praised for my looks, people would often tell me that my nickname Bella suits me, because its Italian for beauty. They even say I am very alluring, like a lovely doll. I would be happy if only people would just praise me and leave me alone, no there are people that treat beauty with reverence and awe, but there are some that do not.

I am afraid of divulging my dark past... but I guess to see how I came to be this way I have to tell my story.

I couldn't stop painting even if I tried. It's a compulsion. And also there's just so many people who deserve to be painted.

I actually started painting when I was 12, the first masterpiece. It was of my neighbor. Yes he is my very first, a Mr. Lawrence Gordon.

He is a middle-aged guy, simple, lives by himself, divorced with two daughters. You see he would often give me candies and smile at me when he sees me. I thought he does that because I remind him of his daughters, but I was very wrong. He likes me, like really really likes me. I found his sick fascination with me the day of my 12th birthday.

I'm fairly simple, I don't fancy parties and I don't like being the center of attention since I get that a lot already.

My father, Charlie, felt that I am missing out a lot, and that I needed friends since I'm a bit of a loner.

But I didn't want a party, and I know my dad can't afford to spend something like that, so the day of my 12th birthday I asked him for a gift instead.

I've always loved drawing and coloring stuff, so I asked him for some paint, a canvas pack and a cheap set of brushes.

That day Charlie told me that he will just make a quick visit at the station and we can eat a special lunch at the Diner.

While I was waiting for him, I went outside with an old sketch book and started to draw.

Then suddenly Mr. Gordon called,

"Hey Bella! Was it your birthday today? Where's the party?"

I was surprised to see Mr. Gordon this early, he is usually at work around this time.

I replied,

"Hey Mr. Gordon! We're just planning to have a simple birthday. Just me and my Dad!"

"Really? Where's your dad?" Mr Gordon said.

"He went to the station for a bit. He'll be back later." I smiled then looked back at my drawing.

"Oh uh, Bella? I would like to ask you a favor."

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He invited me to have a look at his collection, he wanted my take on a toy he wanted to give his daughter, and since I am a girl I can give him an advice. I don't mind giving him an advice, I'm very good at that. I often give advice to my dad on what kind of tie he should buy, or what food for dinner we should cook.

Mr. Gordon directed me upstairs. I entered the room he pointed me, and then gazed in shocked at what I saw.

Dozens of porcelain dolls placed on every surface of the room. At first, I was amazed, they're all so pretty. But then I felt his presence behind me, he placed his hands on my shoulders, then he bent his head and whispered in my ear,

"They are all named after you, Isabella…"

I froze then I noticed that all the dolls have brown hair and brown eyes, just like me. I tried to shrugged his hold, but he clamped his hands on my shoulder hard, then he spun me around to face him. I stared up and saw his maniacal eyes. He gripped my shoulder and lifted me up, and then he forced his mouth on me. I tried to scream, but his hold was strong. He then lifted his head and told me,

"I've been waiting for this for so long my Isabella… Atlast you are mine!"

At that moment I never knew that I could feel so terrified. When he is about to force himself on me again, I suddenly kicked as hard as I can. My feet hit hard flesh. He bulked and dropped me. I quickly ran down the stairs. I heard Mr. Gordon calling my name, but I was fast and was able to get out the house quickly enough. I ran and ran all the way to my house, to my room, to my closet and locked myself. I did not get out, not even when I heard Charlie calling my name.

I never felt so scared before. But looking at the dead eyes of those dolls I felt something, I knew right then something terrible is about to happen. And if I hadn't escaped, I knew I would be destroyed and it will hunt me for the rest of my life.

I cried till I fell asleep on the floor of my closet.

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When I woke up, I was confused. It's still dark and I am sitting on my desk chair with my desk lamp on, I lifted my head up and in front of me, placed on an easel is a painting. What shocked me is what I saw painted on the canvas. It's so unimaginable and terrifyingly grotesque.

I stood up, ran in my bathroom and threw up. Then I cried and cried again.

I woke up again when I heard a knock on the door.

Charlie shouted "Bella are you in there? Girl, I've been looking for you!"

I replied "Dad, I don't feel well, I was just in my room. What time is it anyway?"

I heard him sigh and say,

"How long have you been there anyway? It's 11 in the morning already! Are you feeling okay now? Have you been in your room all night? I've been looking for you! Would you like to go to a doctor?"

I heard him worry and ask a lot of questions. I can't tell what happened to my dad, it would devastate him, it would kill him! And I am also 100% positive that he will kill Mr. Gordon too!

I told him yes on all his questions, but I apologized and told him I just needed some rest and won't need to visit a doctor.

Suddenly, the phone rang. _Ring Ring Ring._

"Yes? Hello?"

"What?"

"What happened?! I'll be there!"

He sounded frantic. Charlie dropped the call and then shouted,

"Bella, I need you to stay here at home. I will call Sue and she'll accompany you. Don't leave the house! Okay?"

I wondered who called and what happened. I replied "Um, yes Dad!"

It's not like I have plans to go out anyway. I don't even want anyone to see me let alone a disgusting neighbor.

Suddenly, I hear sirens.

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What happened after that had been ingrained in my mind.

They found Mr. Gordon, my neighbor, dead in a room full of dolls. My father will not divulge what he saw that day. I heard rumors that Mr. Gordon was brutalized. They said maybe he owed someone, or maybe he was a drug dealer and someone wants to take him out, since no one can do that to anyone except a criminal. Or maybe an animal got inside his house.

What really happened?

I did not know what I should feel. I should've felt relief that the pig is dead and will not bother me again, but for some unfathomable reason I felt guilt. I don't know why, but I know I have something to do with his demise.

One late night when Charlie was asleep, I snuck in his office.

I know that sometimes he studies his cases at home. And luck would have it, there's a pile of folders and papers on his desk.

The first folder I saw has the written word confidential on it. Bingo. I opened it and almost broke down. For there in the picture was the painting I saw that night.

A man laid in the middle of the bed with dolls around him. His stomach was open, and all his insides were out, the dolls that surrounded him are positioned like they were the ones who are holding him and eating his insides. Dolls strewn everywhere around him, some poised like they're holding his hands and feet. Some positioned like they were eating his intestines, devouring his eye balls, biting his legs and arms. It's so monstrous with blood splattered all over… exactly like my painting.

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 **Author Notes:**

 **This is my first story. Would love to hear your feedback. Please leave some reviews :)**


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